


Liar Liar

by fadagaski



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Breathplay, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Furiosa is the most eaten out character in fandom history, Gunplay, Outdoor Sex, Teasing, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Vaginal Fingering, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadagaski/pseuds/fadagaski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I could've made that shot." </p><p>Max glances down the scope again. "No."</p><p>"What is it, six hundred paces? Not a problem. I'll prove it. First light. Meet you at the base."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar Liar

**Author's Note:**

> nonny prompted: Max/Furiosa "You lied to me".

The wind's coming in from the east, and that always makes people jittery worse than a full moon. Max has never seen Furiosa this bad with it though. It's gone midnight but she's still pacing the mid-level gardens, metal hand tapping off her thigh, shoulders coiled with banked energy. Max, on guard duty and perched in the sniper's nest, feels an answering simmer under his skin but waits, and watches. Know your enemy. 

A shadow snuffles around the maggot farm. Max brings up his rifle and sights along the scope. Snout, tail, floppy ears - it's just a dog, hungry and feral. Moments later the night guard shoos it off with a chattering bark.

"I could've made that shot." Max blinks up at Furiosa - he hadn't even realised she was there, so used to her physical presence in his space that it doesn't flare up the old Wasteland responses any more. 

Max glances down the scope again. "No."

"What is it, six hundred paces? Not a problem. I'll prove it."

"I'm on duty," Max says, though he's intrigued.

"First light. Meet you at the base." She waits for his grunt of assent before whirling away into the darkness, leaving Max with the night and the rifle and the fizzle under his skin.

*

His relief comes a bit early. Max takes the opportunity to swing by the baths just to dunk his head in a bucket of cold water. It revs him right up, ready to deal with whatever eerie mood the winds have blown into Furiosa. 

Of course she's waiting for him, a bike lolling on its stand next to her. To anyone else she appears the calm, powerful leader she always has been. Max can see the rounded curve of her back like she's going to charge, and her eyes vivid green with inner fire. She has her SKS rifle slung over one shoulder and a bulky knapsack over the other. 

"Ready?" she calls, bouncing just a little on the balls of her feet.

"For sleep." 

Furiosa scoffs. 

They ride out, Furiosa a wall of tension at Max's back as they bounce over sand dunes in the rising light. Max tries not to focus on the grip of Furiosa's knees at his hips. When they stop, it's close enough to the road and to Citadel that they're within protection, but far enough not to draw attention from nosy residents. 

Furiosa dismounts and hands him the rifle. "Wait here." Off she goes, unsteady in the slippery sand, bag bouncing against her back with a metallic chink. 

After about six hundred paces she stops, turns and waves at him. Her prosthetic catches the new sun in a blinding flash. Then she opens her knapsack and pulls out five tin cans, lining them up along the dune ridge like rusty sentinels. In a few minutes they're done and she's by his side. Her face is serious but her eyes are shining bright. 

And Max is tired but he's also alive to the energy crackling around Furiosa. He licks his lips, watching her wheel the bike into position as a rifle mount, before she kneels in the sand. She sights along the scope. It is a very long way. 

SNAP.

The shot kicks up sand in front of the first can. Max's eyebrows raise, impressed. Then, he gets an idea, and can't help the twitch of a smile at his mouth's edges. 

"Missed."

Furiosa jerks back and glares at him. When she's lining up her second shot, Max sneaks up behind her, bending close to blow against her ear just when she's about to pull the trigger.

SNAP. 

Way wide.

Furiosa turns her head slowly towards him, eyebrows drawn tight. "What are you doing?" 

"You said it was easy." He grins at her. "Making it harder." 

Seemingly against her will, her eyes flicker down his body and back up. She worries her bottom lip for a moment. "Fine." She turns back to her rifle. 

Max sidles closer, hand trailing feather-light across her arm, fascinated to see the skin prickle in his wake. He presses his mouth to the same space and is gratified to hear Furiosa's hitch of breath before the next shot. A quick peek confirms a miss. 

"Damn," she growls. 

Huffing a laugh, Max shuffles to kneel behind her, and buries his mouth against the juncture of her neck and shoulder where she always goes weak for a bite. Now is no different, judging by the hiss-whimper that escapes her control. 

"Seven left in the clip," Max murmurs just before he sinks his teeth into her earlobe. 

SNAP.

SNAP.

Both miss. Furiosa grunts something frustrated low in her throat. Max runs his hands up the front of her thighs, over her hips to her breasts, bound for a day's work but still sensitive to pressure. He kneads while nipping at her neck, from shoulder to shoulder. She shivers every time he breathes over the damp flesh. 

"Five left. You said it was easy."

SNAP.

"Fuck you." 

Miss.

Max's hands drop down to her belt. Doing it at this angle is like unbuckling his own; it takes no time at all to slip his fingers inside. Her skin is warm and damp with sweat. He parts through wiry hair to the core of her where she is slick already and scorching hot. It's an effort to bend his wrist right, but worth it for the moan she makes when he rubs right over her clit to her wet hole. He bites at her earlobe again.

"Focus."

SNAP.

Miss.

The muscles and tendons in his forearm pull when he slides a finger inside her and crooks it. His thumb he presses against her clit, steady firm pressure. And then, mouth open and wet against her neck, other hand squeezing her breast, he goes still. 

"Max. Fuck." 

SNAP.

Miss. 

Her hips grind down on his hand. Max rewards her with a hard rub of his thumb that has her crying out. Furiosa thrusts back onto his finger, up against his thumb, and on the next circle Max inserts his middle finger too. She clenches hard on them, but it's not enough. She lefts out a muffled growl of frustration.

"Two more," Max says. 

SNAP. 

He doesn't have time to check. Furiosa leaves the rifle on the bike and spins on her knees in the sand, shoving Max back until he's prone. She wrestles her pants down as far as they can go without taking her boots off, scuttles up the length of Max's body - a delicious wave of heat that has him gasping - and then her cunt is over his mouth and she thrusts right down.

Max goes to work, using every trick he's learnt she likes: three fingers thrusting into her hole while he rubs his tongue in devastating circles over her clit. Furiosa rocks against his mouth hard and fast, gasping for breath, her eyes burning as she stares down at him and Max doesn't look away, not for a second. He can barely catch a sliver of air but he keeps going, fucking her hard with his hand and grinding his tongue against her clit. 

"Yes, yes," she gasps, and he can feel the flutter of her walls around his fingers. A bare scrape of teeth over her clit and then she's coming, hot jagged bursts of slick pouring down his chin and cheeks and neck while her thighs quiver and shake and squeeze around his head. 

After a long moment, Furiosa rocks to her knees. Max sucks in a wet breath, coughing. He has to wait for her to roll sideways before he can sit up. He's dizzy, black spots dancing in his eyes. The wind feels cold against his wet face. Shaking his head, he helps Furiosa tug her pants back up - there's already sand everywhere but no need to make it worse - before collapsing next to her. He licks his lips and tastes her. 

"Hm," he says, when the heat has crept up a few more degrees. Furiosa squints at him. "You lied to me. Said it was easy."

Furiosa stares.

In a sudden flurry of movement she's on her knees, rifle steadied on the back of the bike, sighting down the barrel. 

SNAP.

_Twang._

Max doesn't need to look to see that one of the rusty tin cans is missing from its posts.


End file.
